Should I tell him?
by MiniWitchling123
Summary: (Lots of homophobia) Basically, it's how the different characters are attacked because of their sexual orientation. Starts off with Yuuri at the Rostelecom Cup
1. Yuuri

Should I tell him?

 **Author's note: I'm sorry I haven't written anything for a while. Long story short, my laptop broke again. It's not fixed so I'm using my phone to write this up.** **Apologies if this is really bad. I wrote it on a bad day and debated whether I should actually publish this.** **Homophobia warning in this for anyone (sorry Yuuri!). Other than that, I hope you like it.**

Yuuri started the six minute warm up with his head all over the place. Viktor. Makkachin. Vicchan. The free skate. The short skate. The final. Viktor. Viktor's love. As he practiced his jumps, landing them cleanly, he forced himself to swallow down his concern for Makkachin. Once the warm up had ended, all the skaters except Emil left the ice. All of them went to their coaches. Except Yuuri. Glancing around, he slipped into the locker rooms and opened his locker, searching for his phone. A small piece of paper fluttered out and landed by his feet. Curious, he picked it up and read the message.

"Faggot."

Yuuri crumpled it up quickly and shoved it into the pocket of his tracksuit, swallowing. He pulled out his bag and shuffled through it. His fingers brushed against another piece of paper and he hesitantly took it out to read it.

"Hasetsu homo."

He looked up and his eyes widened. The back of his locker was filled with small slips of paper, each printed with the Russian flag on it. Before he could stop himself he was reading through them.

"Disgusting scum."

"Stop tainting Nikiforov."

"Do us all a favour and kill yourself."

"Faggot whore."

"Pathetic gay bastard."

"Nikiforov's not gay."

Yuuri shoved the rest into the bottom of his bag and pulled his phone out. No new messages from Viktor. He called, hoping, praying for an answer.

 _Hello. You've reached the voicemail of Viktor Nikiforov. Please leave a message after the tone_.

Yuuri hung up quickly, locking his phone and putting it back in his bag. Seung-Gil Lee had just started his free skate when Yuuri got back out to the main hallway with Yakov, Yuri and JJ. He put his earphones in and rolled his shoulders a little. He could shake this off. He would shake this off.

"After suffering an early fall in his quadruple loop, Seung-Gil Lee suffered a major loss in the standings and now has no hope of progressing to the Grand Prix Final."

Yuuri looked up as Seung-Gil left, seeing his tears. He swallowed his own fears frown and focused, frowning. The notes in his bag and locker kept coming to mind as much as he forced them down. As Yuri stepped onto the ice to start his free skate, Yuuri focused his mind to its safe space.

Viktor.

He allowed himself to focus on Viktor. Viktor's smile. Viktor's encouraging, if slightly naïve, coaching techniques. The way Viktor's eyes would wrinkle slightly after Yuuri landed a hip successfully.

Yuri's music ended and Yuuri was pulled out of his thoughts. Pulling out his earbuds and tugging off his tracksuit, he shoved them and his phone into his locker before he shut it and walked slowly out towards the rink. Yakov left Yuri's side and took Yuuri's skate covers, giving him a little nod.

"Make Viktor proud." He said gently.

Yuuri nodded and he skated into the centre of the rink. His anxiety flickered a little, and he forced himself to relax and clear his head. The opening runs of "Yuri on Ice" started playing and he lost himself in his skate, messing up his combination and some of his final jumps. As he reached his final pose, he reached for where Viktor would have been.

No one was there.

Yuuri swallowed the lump in his throat as he skated towards Yakov. He took back his blade covers and rushed into the locker room, pulling out his jacket and slipping it on as he reached the Kiss and Cry. Yakov started lecturing him but he couldn't listen properly.

"Yuuri Katsuki is in third place. He may yet proceed to the Grand Prix Final but we won't know until the end."

"Viktor will be going back to Russia." Yuuri thought sadly.

Yakov excused himself to find Yuri, leaving him alone. Sighing, he stood up and walked to the locker room. Maybe Viktor would answer now.

 _Hello. You've reached the voicemail of Viktor Nikiforov. Please leave-_

Yuuri hung up and looked in the mirror. He could see his hair was starting to fall back down and his eyes were getting irritated by his contacts. It was the white splodge on his jacket that caught his eye. He pulled his jacket off and froze.

"Disgusting faggot slut."

It was written underneath "Japan" on his jacket and it was in English so that more people could understand it. He had walked past competitors and reporters wearing it. He didn't have another jacket to wear instead. Surprisingly calmly, he made sure the paint was dry before he turned it inside out and slipped it back on. He pocketed his phone, wallet and glasses before he slipped out of the locker rooms.

"Jean Jacques Leroy of Canada performed a magnificent free skate. He's taken gold, with Yuri Pliestsky taking silver and Michele Crispino taking bronze. Katsuki and Crispino are tied for points when the scores of both events are totalled, meaning Katsuki will be going to Barcelona after taking silver at the Cup of China."

Yuuri almost collapsed with relief. He found Yakov waiting for Yuri and he hugged him tightly to his surprise.

"Thank you."

For the next twenty minutes, Yuuri went on a hugging rampage, hugging the other competitors. He was almost in shock as he collected his things and slipped on his coat.

Another slip of paper sat in the corner of his locker, the Russian flag on the back bringing a lump to his throat. He picked it up hesitantly.

"They don't give gold medals to fags."

Yuuri crumpled it up in his hand and shoved it in his pocket as he left.

Yuuri shifted his bag on his back as he approached the arrivals area of the airport. He'd made it. Viktor wouldn't leave him. He was lost in his thoughts. How would he even begin to tell Viktor what had happened in the skate, let alone-

A soft bark pulled him out of his thoughts. Bounding towards him, paws up against the window, was Makkachin.

Alive and well.

Only once he has finished staring at Makkachin did Yuuri look up. Viktor was staring at him, eyes wide and full of emotions. He stood up and Yuuri started running towards the door. Viktor matched his speed as he too ran towards the door, Makkachin hot on his heels. Yuuri reached it first and Viktor stopped, his arms wide open for Yuuri. Yuuri collapsed into them, holding Viktor in a tight hug. Viktor hugged him too, one hand smoothing his hair.

"Viktor, I've been thinking how you can continue as my coach."

"Me too Yuuri." Viktor said gently, kissing the top of his head.

Yuuri pulled Viktor away from him and looked him seriously in the eyes.

"Viktor, will be my coach until I retire?"

Viktor stared at him momentarily before he smiled, taking Yuuri's hand and kissing it. "That sounded like a marriage proposal." Yuuri flushed a little red and Viktor pulled him back into a hug. "In that case, I hope you never retire."

The whole train ride from the airport to Hasetsu was filled with Viktor asking Yuuri about the competition. He smiled when he heard Yuri qualified and he squeezed Yuuri's hand gently.

"You're not telling me something Yuuri." He said softly. "I can tell by your eyes."

Yuuri shuffled in his seat and mumbled something, avoiding Viktor's eye contact. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to burn his jacket. The one he still had on under his coat. Luckily, Viktor didn't push him to talk and the two just sat in a comfortable silence.

"Yuuri! Delivery!" Viktor called up the stairs, a package held in one hand. Yuuri spotted the parcel and felt a wave of relief as he recognised it.

"What did you buy Yuuri?" Viktor asked chirpily. Yuuri froze, halfway through opening it.

"Uh, just a jacket." He bluffed quickly, hoping to throw Viktor off.

"Yuuri~." Viktor said in his slightly-irritated voice. "What did you buy?"

Yuuri frowned and pushed the package into his hands before he went back upstairs to his room. Viktor opened it, confused when he found a new Japan jacket.

"Yuuri?" Viktor asked softly, opening the door.

Yuuri was sitting on his bed, surrounded by small slips of paper and clutching a black jacket. He head was bowed and he tensed as Viktor sat down next to him.

"Mind explaining what's going on?"

Yuuri looked down at the ruined jacket in his hands, the homophobic slur in white paint obvious against the black material. Viktor's face softened immediately as he saw the words. He could guess what the slips of paper were.

"Oh, Yuuri, I'm so sorry This is all my fault for kissing you in China. I knew we were going to Russia. I should have been more careful."

Yuuri hugged him tightly, trying very hard not to cry as he buried his face in Viktor's shoulder. Viktor stroked his hair gently.

"T-There's one...One specific one you should see." Yuuri mumbled. He handed Viktor the crumpled piece of paper and buried his face again. Viktor kept his arms around Yuuri as he opened the note.

"They don't give gold medals to fags."

"I'll sort this out Yuuri, I promise." Viktor said softly, kissing Yuuri's forehead and sweeping the notes into the bin.

"So, Viktor, what do you have to say about Yuuri Katsuki getting into the final?" One reporter pressed, cameras flashing around him as film crews zoomed in on him. He smiled, his camera-perfect smile making an appearance.

"Yuuri deserves to be here because he is gold medal material. He has as much chance as any of the others here." Hiss face turned solemn and stern as he turned directly to talk to the camera. "And whichever Russian vandalised his jacket and filled his locker with homophobic slurs has me to answer for. Plus," he paused for a moment, smiling a little more, "if they don't give gold medals to fags, how come I won five in a row at the worlds?"

The reporters around him were stunned, so Viktor added one more comment. "I would like to announce my plans to propose to Yuuri Katsuki. If he says yes, we can marry after the Grand Prix Final."

Viktor left the interview and met up with Yuuri in a restaurant. The two enjoyed their date in Barcelona in peace whilst Viktor's interview went viral.

The hate didn't stop. Yuuri doubted it ever would as he tossed a small slip of paper with a Russian flag on it into the bin quickly. Viktor took his hands and kissed his ring, smiling.

"Skate your best."

 **I originally thought I'd do it as a stand alone thing, but should I do this with other characters too?** **Please let me know. I hope you enjoyed it x**


	2. Yuri

Should I tell him? Yuri

 **Author's note: So, I go back to school next week and I've written barely anything over this summer. Next year will be more intense so I most likely won't be able to post much until Christmas (anyone remember when I used to post something every week?).**

 **Anyway, cause I'm not entirely sure how I want to do the Viktor chapter, I'm doing the Yuri chapter instead. I'm not calling him Yurio, just because I personally hate being called the wrong name.**

 **Once again, there is homophobia in this as well as transphobia (Yuri is not trans in this). Characters aren't mine, disclaimer disclaimer. I'm also putting Otayuri in here.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

Yuri Plisetsky finished off his ballet and looked over to Lilia.

"Beautiful Yuri. We'll start on your routine properly tomorrow. Go to my house and take a hot bath to properly relax your muscles. You really are becoming a prima ballerina."

Yuri nodded, pulling on his tiger jumper and untying his ballet shoes and hair. Lilia still had some other students to work with, so Yuri had a set of keys as well.

It was quite peaceful actually. The gulls cried overhead and the occasional car drove past him, disturbing the silence. It had been a while since Yuri had really been able to think. Think about the season with Viktor competition again, about him and Yuuri moving to Russia next week, and about his relationships.

"Oh look, it's the Russian Fairy."

Yuri narrowed his eyes at the group of girls blocking the pavement. He was used to dealing with masses of them, cough cough the angels, but then they were trying to get photos. Not trying to insult him.

"I heard Yuri Plisetsky used to be a girl. Still has a vagina apparently."

"And I heard it's rude to talk about people behind their backs." Yuri snapped, hands in his pockets as he glared at them. "You're blocking my path."

The girls just laughed.

"Aww. Does the itty bitty kitty want to go home so he can crawl up next to his boyfriend and be used as a fuck toy?"

In hindsight, gasping wasn't a very good idea. Yuri Plisetsky was so far in the closet that he was in Narnia. His relationship was strictly a secret between him and Otabek.

"Don't look so surprised kitten." One of the girls cooed as she circled him, stroking his hair. "We have many sources. And you should know how good the angels are at stalking." She pulled up a picture on her phone of him and Otabek kissing.

"What a disgusting little faggot you are Yuri. I wonder what would happen if I shared this photo online, for everyone to see? Grandpa, the Russian government, the world..."

"What the fuck do you want?" Yuri snapped, finding his voice again. Don't back down. They're just cowards Yura. You're stronger than they are. You're a soldier.

"To teach a little faggot a lesson."

"Yuri?" Yakov opened the door in disbelief. Yuri Plisetsky was dripping wet from the rain with slurs written all across his face and, Yakov assumed, his body. He looked so vulnerable.

"Sorry Yakov. I meant to be home a lot earlier. I was distracted."

Yakov nodded, stepping back to let Yuri in. "Go and take a shower or bath Yura. You look like you need it." His voice was much more gentle, like he was talking to a kitten.

As Yuri almost ran into the bathroom, Lilia stepped out of her kitchen. "Was that Yuri?"

Yakov sat down and slowly explained what he had seen.

Yuri Plisetsky cried.

As soapy water ran down his now red body, scrubbed free from the slurs, he cried. He cried because his secret was out and there was nothing he could do about it. He cried because he was worried for Otabek. And he cried purely out of fear.

He turned off the shower and stepped out, checking himself in the mirror. He looked normal. Perfect.

"Yura?" Yakov knocked on his bedroom door as he was sitting on his bed, drying his hair. He had dressed in the tiger onesie Otabek bought him for his birthday.

"It's unlocked."

Yakov came in and sat down next to Yuri on his bed. They were silent for a moment.

"I'll pack my bags and go if you want." Yuri said finally with a sigh, standing up.

"No you won't Yura." Yakov said firmly. "Lilia and I think of you in exactly the same way we did before. And if I was to kick out any of my not straight skaters, I'd be left only with Georgi."

Yuri smiled and sat back down next to him. "It'll be alright?"

"Yes. And you should tell your boyfriend as well. So he knows to watch his back."

After dinner, Yuri Skyped Otabek. He explained what had happened, leaving out the part where they thought he was trans.

"Oh my God Yura." Otabek said softly. "I wish I could hug you. I'll give you an extra long hug when I see you next."

Yuri smiled and kissed his fingers, pressing them to his laptop gently. "It's alright. I'm fine now. Just watch your back, ok?"

 **Sorry it didn't have the same kind of ending as Yuuri's, but Yuri is fighting more alone. This is set after the Barcelona GPF. I hope you liked it and I'll update as soon as I can**


	3. Otabek

Should I tell him: Otabek

 **Author's note: Sorry this took ages to upload and write. Otabek is one of my favourite characters and I'm sorry for this. I most likely won't be able to write much before Christmas but I'll try.** **This chapter is a continuation from chapter 2 but can stand alone. It involves homophobia (do I still need to say that?) and also mentions rape (there isn't any rape I promise). It also features JJ. I don't own the characters, disclaimer disclaimer. Enjoy x**

Otabek ended the Skype call with Yuri, sending him to bed after comforting him. His stomach was turning slightly as he dared to open up his Instagram.

A picture Yuri posted of St Petersburg came up. Scrolling down, there were several selfies from Phichit, selfies of JJ and Isabelle, and a blurry photo of Yuuri taken by Viktor. No homophobia.

Otabek sighed and locked his phone, plugging it and his laptop in to charge before he settled into a slightly uneasy sleep.

The next morning he went out for his morning run before training. Almaty was quite quiet at the early hour and he enjoyed being alone to think. The worries about Yuri had been forgotten overnight and he we much more relaxed than the night before.

"Disgusting faggot." A cold voice stopped Otabek in his tracks. A guy about his age leaned against a lamp post, casually smoking his cigarette.

"Sorry, were you talking to me?" Otabek asked, watching him a little warily. Yuri's warning replayed in his mind.

The man smirked and dropped his cigarette, grinding it into the pavement with his shoe. "Who else is a disgusting faggot here?"

Otabek frowned at him. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." The guy smirked, advancing towards him. "You've been seen with that little Russian bitch."

Otabek instinctively took a step back. "Russian bitch? Who are you talking about?"

 _Not Yura. Not Yura. Please please please not Yura_

"Yuri Plisetsky of course." The guy laughed, matching Otabek's steps backwards with his own forwards. "The little bitch who looks like a girl but isn't. Lying whore."

"Don't talk about him like that." Otabek said dangerously softly. "Yuri Plisetsky has worked hard his whole life and lied to no one."

"Yuri Plisetsky is a whore who deserves to be fucked until he can never take a shit comfortably again."

Otabek slapped the guy across the face almost instantly with no hint of remorse on his face. "Don't you dare talk about him like that. He isn't an object. He's-"

"A faggot fuck toy." Otabek turned to see where the voice came from and his heart dropped at the sight of three other guys. "Your little faggot fuck toy. And sooner or later, someone is going to teach you both a lesson for being queer bastards."

Otabek's armed were pulled behind him and he struggled, still facing the guy now talking to him dead on. "Leave him out of this. He's done nothing wrong."

"But he's a gay Russian. I wonder what he'd do if the world found out about him kissing you?"

Otabek winced even though he hadn't been hit. The guy smirked, holding out his phone with a photo of Otabek and Yuri kissing on the screen. "Watch out Altin. This photo will go viral and the world will know just whaat a disgusting faggot you are."

After punching him a couple more times each, the men lost interest and left Otabek. He took a moment to process fully what had just happened and he touched his face absent mindedly. His lip was split and his cheek felt sore. His torso felt painful too. Making a split second decision, he texted his coach apologising for his absence and ran home.

In the mirror, he could see the bruises beginning to form on his body. His split lip had swollen slightly and he was starting to get a black eye. He needed to tell someone about this.

"Otabek? Man, I said you could Skype me at any time but I didn't literally mean- what the fuck happened?" JJ said as he appeared on Skype.

"Sorry. I know you were sleeping. But I couldn't tell Yuri about this or he'd blame himself."

Otabek told JJ everything that had happened with Yuri and himself. JJ listened patiently; his frown got deeper as Otabek spoke.

"Beks, I'm sorry this happened. Unless you report it to someone, it won't get better. You have to speak out like Viktor did. I know it's hard for you, but think of Yuri."

Otabek nodded, thanking JJ and logging off Skype before typing up an anonymous article.It tok him several attemptsto finish it and an hour of debating with himself on whether to publish it.

 _My story,_ _I'm eighteen years old, nearly nineteen, and it shocks me that I cannot be open with my boyfriend due to fear. People have physically hurt both of us for our sexual orientation: something we cannot control. My boyfriend and I are not straight. I personally am bisexual and I don't want to speak for him._ _The world needs to realise that we are all human. Even if our skin colour is different, who we love is different, our first language is different, or our religious holidays, we are all human. And so we should all treat each other as human._

 **I'm leaving** **this there; sorry if it feels unfinished.**


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